by himself

Tom turned away from the door slowly, almost dazed, his ears still ringing with the click of the latch.

The quiet of the house pressed around him, thick and absolute, the kind that made every creak of the floor sound like a secret being whispered.

He drifted back toward the hallway, passing the faint lingering warmth where Sarah’s perfume still hung in the air. His mind replayed the scene from the closet over and over, each flicker of her bare skin magnified in memory. The curve of her hip as she stepped into her panties. The dip of her waist as she bent for the earring. The faint sway of her breasts when she reached for the clasp of her bra.

And now… she was out with him.

Dad.

The word stuck in his mind like a splinter.

His father’s hands would be on her tonight. His father would watch her lips close around the rim of a wine glass, would see her laugh in that low way she did when she was enjoying herself, would slide into bed beside her later and—

Tom shook his head sharply, pacing. His jaw clenched so tight it hurt.

Part of him wanted to go into their bedroom right now, to dig through her drawers and pull out more of her clothes, bury himself in her scent until his mind blurred. Another part wanted to test the coin in his pocket, to see if he could change things — make her stay home, make her remember who she really was to him in his old life, make her want him the way he wanted her.

But there was the third part — darker, more patient — whispering that he didn’t have to ruin anything yet. He had time in this life. He could slip deeper into these patterns his younger self had already carved. Learn them. Exploit them.

Tom’s hand drifted to his pocket, fingers curling around the smooth face of the coin. The metal was warm from his body heat.

He could almost feel its magic pulsing faintly, waiting for his next move.

His pulse throbbed in his temples as he stood there in the dim light of the hallway.

Do I pull her back to who she was… or let this play out?

The image of her in that bathroom flashed in his mind again — her hair damp, towel falling, bare skin glowing under the light — and he knew exactly which way he was leaning.